His Baby Girl
by Dairi
Summary: Quentin is alone at his apartment, dealing with his grief the only way he knows how...only thing is, he doesn't have to be alone anymore. MAJOR spoilers for last night's ep, if you haven't seen probably don't wanna be reading.
Ok so...Laurel wasn't exactly my favorite character, but last night just about slayed me. I had to do a little something to express that, I'm sure lots of people are, but here is mine...

Also, if any if you are wondering about my Virtually Yours series, I will be doing my best to update it this week. I have a lot going on right now - including being very worried over my kitty cat of 11 yrs who mysteriously lost his meow Sunday and hasn't regained it, and just, well anyway. I know I needlessly worry alot, but yeah. Sorry for this tangent, ha.

Hope you enjoy reading~ other than, y'know, the heart break.

* * *

His baby girl.

His. _Baby._ Girl.

Quentin Lance sat on his living room floor, back propped against his couch, staring morosely down at his coffee table. There were at least half a dozen pictures scattered across one side, and an unopened bottle of jack ready and waiting on the other side of the table.

Tears were something of the past...this pain ripping through him, this grief tearing him apart? Weeping and yelling would not help it, he knew. Tears would still find him, he was certain of this, but that was simply inadequate to express his grief. He felt hollow, empty. Like he couldn't breathe. All he wanted...was one moment, to not feel anything.

And his answer was sitting on that table. One relapse - what would it hurt? And besides. Who would blame him?

But, he couldn't do it. She was staring at him.

He could not let down the little girl in that picture, smiling up at him. This was a problem they had both endured, and doing this would dishonor her memory.

Her memory.

Because, that's all she was anymore. A memory.

Tears in his eyes he couldn't feel anymore, Quentin took a shuddering breath and lifted a hand to the closest picture. His index finger trailed down the small face staring back at him, and he closed his eyes. This is all he had left of her, old images and scenes that replayed in his mind's eye.

And it hurt. So. Much.

From experience, he knew the only way to dull this pain, this hurt...this loneliness, was to dive in the bottle. That's all he wanted...all he needed. He needed this, just this once.

"I'm sorry, baby girl." Quinten whispered to his empty apartment, picking up the small 4x6 piece of paper that he could scarcely see through his swimming gaze. His grip nearly crumpled the paper as he held it close to his chest, head bowed as he said more silent apologies and yet tried to explain his stance. Surely she would understand. His fingers found the image of her face again, and he just couldn't...he missed her, so much...

The door to his apartment banged open all of a sudden, a small blonde woman barreling inside. Quentin looked up and sucked in a breath of air,

"Donna?" He asked shakily as the woman tossed her purse to the floor and was kneeling at his side in a matter of seconds.

"I'm here, baby, I came as soon as I heard." Donna responded in a soft voice, reaching out to touch her hand to the side of his face, then drew him to her. Resting his head on her bosom, she whispered, "I'm - I'm so sorry, Quentin." She paused, tears in her eyes and voice, and ran her nail tips over his scalp. "I know...there's nothing I can say right now, to make it better, to take away your pain even though I wish I could, baby...but, I'm going to say this: I'm here, honey, and I'm not going anywhere. So don't you dare forget that you're not alone. Wether you want me to or not, I'm staying right here, Quentin." Donna said slowly, but with great feeling.

The picture slipped from his grasp and with shaking hands, he wrapped one hand around Donna's arm, and his other hand clung tightly to her side.

Not alone. Never alone, not with this woman by his side.

He let go of the tight leash he'd been keeping on his grief. He let it all go, trusting this woman to catch him.

Hours later, when he woke up, not remembering having fallen asleep, and his blonde partner was still there. They were both stretched out on the floor, his head cradled on her stomach, and her hand was still moving lightly over his head. She was staring at the picture that has fallen earlier.

She'd stayed, like she'd said.

Another pain burst forth in his heart, but this one held an unspeakable gratitude for the blonde.

This pain in his heart, he knew it would never go away, but perhaps, if she wanted, she could start to help him cope.


End file.
